Holiday with Phoenix
by AWashG
Summary: Andrew doesn't like holidays. Andrew is being forced to participate in Christmas. A short one off featuring the cast of Operation: OUTCAST.


**Holiday with Phoenix**

**December 25th, 2568 06:30 Local Time**

**Fort Keyes, Minerva, Lambda Rho System**

Andrew's alarm went off as normal. The Spartan sat up, put his feet on the floor and moved to his wardrobe. Grabbing his clothes and towel, Andrew started his daily routine. Restroom, shower, shave, physical training. Much to his annoyance the others made things much harder after step three.

"C'mon Andrew, liven up a little it's a fucking holiday!"

"There's no proven date of the birth of Jesus. The twenty fifth was likely picked to contend with Saturnalia."

"It doesn't matter big guy, we're still celebrating. We even got gifts for you and Sylas."

"You can return them. I don't do holidays and Sylas is a working dog. He's not supposed to have toys and shit."

"Let him go, you two. You've done this for the past four years. I'd've thought you'd learn by now."

"Thank you, Boss. At least someone gets me. Zeit zu rennen." Sylas stood up and followed Andrew to the door. With his harness fitted and leash clipped on, the two left for their morning run.

King threw a pen at Thermer and walked over to the small plastic tree he bought for their first Christmas. Around the tree were small boxes wrapped up and labeled. King grabbed his gift for Thermer and tossed it to him. "I can't believe you just let him go dude. Every fucking year I end up returning his gift. Every year, Thermer! Sam too!"

Thermer slowly unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a leather bound box. Inside the box was an analog watch. Gold plated and engraved with dates important to Thermer. The timepiece was rather nice and a departure from the usual. "Thank you, King. You guys seem to forget that he's an orphan and a child soldier. He's only twenty nine and has seen more combat and committed more atrocities in the name of a military that gave him purpose. He never had what we have. He never had family or holidays, no vacations. He's lived and breathed the service since he was a child. He's not faithful either. I don't blame him."

Thermer stood and gave Sam his gift. The young Spartan unwrapped it with a quickness. Inside was a new cap, their insignia emblazoned on the forehead, and a pair of smart glasses to replace the ones he'd recently snapped in half. "Thank you, Boss. With all due respect, that's a bullshit excuse. The man's been with us for five years. Every holiday we try to get him to hang out, at least be here with us. We're a family. His past is behind him. He needs to move on. A little faith in something might do him some good."

Sam got up and gave King his present. King unwrapped it and found a new knife and telescoping baton. What intrigued him were the prongs at the end and the white strips on the side. Hitting a second button made electricity arc between the metal nubs. The stun baton was a perfect gift for the sadist. Thermer replied to Sam. "Getting over his past is something that he'll have to do on his own time. We can't force him. With everything that happened with Henshaw, he's pretty tense and I don't want him blowing up on anyone. Just deal with it. That's an order."

The rest of the gift exchange was silent. Thermer got a new collectible for his desk; plating from the forerunner dreadnought that had attacked Trost back in '63. Sam got new ceramic plates to help cover the mechanics of his prosthetic arm. Lastly, King got a real book. A collection of Sigfried Sassoon's works. There were still four presents under the tree. Two for Andrew, two for Sylas.

* * *

**08:30 Local Time**

Andrew returned to the barracks to rinse off and change into his techsuit. Thermer was still there. King and Sam had gone to the chapel on base for services. He was almost done getting ready when Thermer spoke up. "Can't you humor them just this once? Do it this one time and I'll make sure they never bother you with this again. I don't get you anything out of respect. They just want you to know that you're viewed as more than a teammate or friend. I know you're not religious, but you don't have to be to celebrate."

Andrew let the suit seal up and looked over at Jesse. "No. You guys may be my brothers in arms, but I won't be humoring this shit. I don't care if they don't like it. They don't get why I don't do this. They can think it's a cop-out all they want. Won't change my past."

"Can we at least expect to see you in the mess for dinner?"

"No. Can you make sure Sylas is fed. I'm gonna see if Arrin is in and then go take care of some training. I need to adjust to my supplementals."

* * *

**14:30 Local Time**

Andrew had been running simulations for hours. Fine tuning his settings to work with the added bulk of his supplemental armor after each simulated death. The gear was heavy. From the new collar to the shin guards, everything was designed and fit to work with his fighting style. More joint protection, heavier plates to absorb concussive force, reactive armor, CBRN filters, all of threw off his meticulous thruster calculations. It all needed to be changed and saved as a preset. "Spartan G199, simulation will end in five seconds. There are people here to join you."

Andrew stopped and waited as the wargames simulator returned to its normal state. Sam and Brandon entered and looked at Andrew. Both Spartans were outfitted in their armor, complete with the supplemental gear they'd been issued. King's shield was huge even in its collapsed form. His cuirass had a collar similar to Andrew's but fewer up armored components. His helmet had more auxiliary sensors and communication equipment. Sam on the other hand was much leaner on the upgrades. His helmet had more sensor equipment than the Scout variant necessarily needed, though the CBRN filters were always good to have. His chest plate received minor additions for protection without sacrificing his mobility.

"What do you two want?"

"We'd like you too at least open Sylas' presents for him."

"He's not supposed to get presents."

"They aren't toys. He got him a patch with our insignia on it and a bag of jerky. Those are things he can have."

"Fair enough, I won't be opening mine. Wargames simulation zero five, CQC arena zero one, safety settings low."

"Tell you what big guy, you win and we'll stop doing this and let you be. We win, and you have to partake in the bare minimum of festivities until you either die or retire. Deal?"

"You know what Sam, I like those odds," Andrew wasted no time rushing down the sniper. Sam fired his thrusters, but with the added weight he didn't get as far away as he wanted to. Andrew was on him faster than anticipated and landed a decent kick. His last set of adjustments seemed to be working quite well.

"Looks like you two haven't worked on calibrating your thrusters to the new gear yet. I'm really liking these odds now." Andrew dipped just out of King's path as he charged through with the shield. Andrew signed a smile at the two. King pulled his new baton swung at Andrew. The swing left him wide open and the S-III was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He fired a kick straight into King's unarmored gut. The extra pouches did little to save him from the blow. Sam tackled Andrew to the ground before he could recover and in a manner of milliseconds the two found themselves in a familiar position. Were it not for the armor, Sam would've been in a figure four choke. His head was firmly locked between Andrew's calf and hamstring, the armor on each restricting him from actually cutting off Sam's blood flow. The sapper rose up off the ground and started to punch Sam in the head.

"You know, it's almost scary how many times I've fallen for this. Good thing is, you're right where I want you." King punctuated Sam's sentence with a shield bash that threw Andrew from his hold. Sam hit the ground hard about a meter from Andrew.

"Hey dude. Can you not hit me in the fucking head?"

"Sorry, I had to do something."

"Yeah and clearly smacking your teammate was the best option. Dick."

"Fuckhead."

"You two ladies done bickering? C'mon. Try and beat me." Andrew rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. They would be in for a long fight.

* * *

**17:10 Local Time**

Nobody won the fight. The base AI kicked the three out. Apparently settling a bet with a fight and spending almost seven hours in the simulator was a waste of base resources and unhealthy. While they were being stripped of their armor, Andrew made it clear to "keep that Christmas fuckshit" away from him. After Sam and King left to join Thermer in the mess for dinner, Andrew grabbed one of the MREs he kept in his foot locker. While the exothermic pouch heated his food the Spartan grabbed Sylas' gifts from under the tree.

"Sylas, komm." The hellhound trotted over to Andrew and sat. He was happy to see that they hadn't lied about his gifts. Opened the bag of jerky and held out a hand that Sylas promptly put a paw in.

"Guter Hund, du bekommst jetzt ein stück ruckeln. Dieser patch ist für dich, er wird an deinem geschirr hängen," after giving Sylas his favorite snack and showing him the patch, Andrew gently secured it to the velcro on his harness. The two ate in relative silence until there was a knock on the door. Much to Andrew's surprise Arrin was waiting when he answered. Andrew motioned her in and let her sit in his desk chair.

"I stopped by your office earlier. You weren't there. Had me worried."

"Most people take Christmas off, Andrew. I stopped by to wish you a happy holi-"

"Stop. I don't do holidays. You should know this by now."

"Andrew, just because you never got to celebrate them as a kid doesn't mean you can't now."

"I don't want to."

"I'm going to assume the two gifts under the tree are for you."

"Sam and King got them for me. And in a couple of days they'll be returning them. Just like every year."

"Really. You won't even accept gifts from your brothers. Did Sylas get gifts."

"Jerky and a team patch."

"That was nice of them. Didn't Thermer get you anything?"

"He doesn't get me gifts out of respect. He doesn't pressure me into celebrating like everyone else."

"You can't let down your family now just because yours did all those years ago."

"My parents didn't let me down. My parents did the sane thing to do."

"They do it because they want you to feel like more than a weapon."

"I don't feel like a weapon. I feel like I'm a person who's done evil things for the sake of a better world."

"If you feel that way, shouldn't you indulge in the better world you're helping to create?"

"No. World I'm helping to create will not need people like me. No point in indulgence if I have no place in it."

"This is the mindset I've been trying to help you get past for years now. You need to take responsibility for your mindset and help me help you."

"Why?"

"Because you're more than a fucking soldier, Andrew! You're more than a suit of armor with a gun. You're more than your training. I'll be damned if you throw away your humanity just because you believe you're an evil man. You perform necessary evils that lesser men will not. You do it because you want to protect the people around you. For fuck sake get your head out of your ass! You're a good person."

"Doesn't change the fact that I hate holidays and think gifts are hollow, material items."

"For someone who can outfox O.N.I. you are really stupid. Birthday and Christmas gifts usually have some sort of sentiment behind them. Maybe if you'd humor them you'd understand that."

"For someone who's supposed to stay unattached to her patients, you really seem to care."

"I can care without forming attachments."

"Says the one who's followed me around the 'Verse since the fall of Trost."

"Humor them just this once. That's an order."

"You're not my Commanding Officer. You can't give me orders."

"Fine I'm prescribing you to do so."

"Damnit."

* * *

**18:00 Local Time**

Andrew sat there at his desk waiting for the rest of his team to come back. His teriyaki beef and broccoli was cold by the time Arrin had left. Sylas was happily seated next to the disgruntled Spartan, receiving vigorous ear scratches. "What am I gonna do, boy? They're makin' me do shit I ain't wanna do. What's the sense, you don't even understand English."

"Yeah but we do. The hell is up with you," Thermer questioned as the rest of the team entered. They all pulled up a chair to sit down and talk with him.

"Well, while I was eating Arrin stopped by to chat. It's been brought to my attention that I'm not an evil man with no place in the better world we work to create. I've been told that I'm in fact a good man, because it commit evils others won't in order to protect the people. It's been brought to my attention that my own self image is why I've hit a roadblock in improving my mental health. If I don't work on it, I can't expect others to help me. I've also been prescribed to humor my teammates and open my presents, whether I wanted to or not."

"She's a smart woman, Andrew. Maybe after you don't need to see her anymore you could see her in a more leisurely fashion. Ahh!" Andrew's knife whizzed by Sam's head, missing him by a centimeter.

"Clamp it peanut boy. So, who wanted to give me theirs first?"

King already had his gift in hand. Andrew gave him a look of confusion as the box was bigger than his head and weighed more than a few kilos. Reluctantly Andrew unwrapped the gift and opened it up. Inside was a familiar piece of equipment, Andrew's original GUNGNIR helmet. He lifted it delicately and gave it a once over. The helm was pretty thrashed; metal had been cut at jagged angles and pulled away from itself, seals were shredded, and the paint was scuffed and scratched exactly as he remembered. Inside the screen was still cracked and his own blood still stained the padding.

"I wore this for almost seven years. How the hell did you get your hands on it? I thought for sure they'd have scrapped this by now."

"O.N.I. likes to hold on to things like that, just in case your current armor fails. It cost me a small fortune to get, but it's back where it belongs."

Sam handed his gift to Andrew, this one was significantly lighter and smaller. Inside he found a forty millimeter grenade attached to a chain. His name was etched into it.

"Before we bugged outta New Sydney I checked Jot's launcher for a round. He was gonna hit you with that but chose to punch you instead. I suppose you earned your HOG in an odd sorta way. Figured you could attach it to your rigging. Don't worry, it's deactivated. All the guts were stripped out."

Andrew held the gift in his hand. Both his gifts were morbid reminders of his rather dangerous career. He set the grenade on his desk. "Thanks you two. Not gonna lie, they were kinda morbid. I understand the sentiment though. I appreciate it."

"See, wasn't so hard. Next year you're participating. We'll each have three gifts to give."

"Don't you think that's pushing it Boss. I did this against my will."

"If that's what it takes, it's an order."

"Fuck."

* * *

Translation:

Zeit zu rennen - On me, time to run.

Sylas komm - Sylas come

Guter Hund, du bekommst jetzt ein stück ruckeln. Dieser patch ist für dich, er wird an deinem geschirr hängen. - Good dog, you get a piece of jerky now. This patch is for you, it will go on your harness.

* * *

Just a short holiday one off for the team. The main story is still in October and I wanted to do something for Christmas.


End file.
